Breathe.

That's all he had to do. Keep his breathing under control.

Gordon wasn't claustrophobic – he couldn't be when he'd spent a vast proportion of his adult life under water in a confined space.

It was the darkness that got him.

Not the usual black-of-night, but an absence of light coupled with restricted movement. Ever since his accident, he hadn't been able to handle that combination.

Breathe.

John would know how he was feeling. He'd say something, reassure him… if he could. But there was only silence.

"John!"

Another shove in the back kept Gordon stumbling on. He was a member of International Rescue. A trained WASP agent. And he was a Tracy. He didn't panic.

His brother was out of earshot. That was all. Nothing else.

Gordon cursed to himself. Even with his hands bound, he could fight back. But without knowing where John was, he couldn't risk it. The irony wasn't lost on him that John was no doubt thinking the same – even if his fighting style leant more towards verbal than physical. They could both handle themselves - apart from when they didn't know where the other was.

"John?"

His only response this time was a jab from what he instantly recognised as a gun. A voice hissed at him to stay quiet and keep moving. Gordon huffed, unable to stop himself. It went against his nature to do as he was told, but he didn't see what choice he had, not this time.

He shivered in the cool evening air. Star-gazing… why did it have to be star-gazing? If they'd left town for anything else, the others might've started asking questions, even just wondering if they'd be back for dinner. But noooo…. He'd agreed to do the one thing that meant they wouldn't even be missed until morning. It had been a long time since he and John had had time together on their own; no one would be suspicious they weren't checking in.

Gordon just hoped Alan looked at his phone and got confused enough to question it.

They didn't keep him walking for long. A voice growled at him to stop, a hand on his shoulder reinforcing the command. Gordon tried to listen out for his brother but all he could hear was the shuffling footsteps of the men surrounding him.

"Never knew I was honour-guard important," he said. The bag muffled his tone but the answering cuff over the head meant they'd got the message.

One of his captors swore, the sound of metal striking metal reaching Gordon's ears. Then came a creak that put his teeth on edge and the sound of something being dragged open. A rush of cold air made him stumble back, but the hand was still on his shoulder.

Before he could try anything, the bag suddenly disappeared. Gordon blinked, eyes screwed up against the torch being shone straight in his face. He still couldn't see any better, but his heart-rate instantly slowed and his shoulders dropped. He was in control again.

For all of about two seconds before a fierce shove sent him stumbling forward.

He glimpsed a large building, non-descript yet instantly recognisable. He didn't know where they were but factory buildings looked the same wherever. The room before him was empty but that was all Gordon had the chance to see.

He'd been too busy looking up to notice the couple of steps leading in. With his balance already thrown thanks to the push, he hit the step with his bad leg first, which gave way beneath him and sent him rolling down the rest.

"Ow," he groaned, as much because he hated the silence than due to it actually hurting.

His bound hands were digging into his back. Rolling over, Gordon managed to awkwardly get to his feet. They hadn't shut the door yet. As he started analysing plans and strategies, a second figure was pushed in. All thoughts fled Gordon's mind as he sighed in relief. Even as the door shut and audibly locked behind them, John corrected his own balance.

"Well," Gordon drawled. He could breathe again, and John was with him. Nothing felt so bad anymore. "This is homely."

As he spoke, a bare bulb suddenly flickered into life. It was dull, leaving the corners of the room in shadow, but better than nothing. Glancing at his brother, Gordon realised John had used his shoulder to nudge the light on.

"You okay?" John asked.

Gordon looked at him. "You didn't answer," he said quietly. John's expression said it all.

"They wanted you off balance," he said. "Told me they'd hurt you if I responded."

Gordon sighed. He should have realised fighting back would've just made their captors more cautious around him. They'd had him at a physical disadvantage; clearly, they'd wanted him at an emotional one as well.

"It's okay," he said, offering his brother a smile. "I'm fine. Just bored of this now."

"Turn around."

Gordon did as he was told. John mirrored him, his clever fingers against first Gordon's watch, then the cuffs binding him. It didn't take him long before they sprang open. Gordon took the small pick from John and freed his brother before clicking it back into his watch. He still didn't know who'd given Brains the idea, but he felt an overwhelming need to thank them profusely.

"Sooo," he began, looking around. The room they were in looked like it had been used for storage – he could see the marks on the wall where shelves had been bolted in.

"Looks like some kind of deserted factory," John said, confirming what Gordon had previously thought. "We're obviously not in the city, but we can't be that far out."

The light had given away it was only early evening. Even driving for a few hours, they'd have only just made it out of state if their captors had been speeding the entire way.

"No 'birds," Gordon reminded him. "If the others are going to find us, they're going to have to do it at mortal speed."

"Then let's make it easier for them," John said. Gordon grinned as his brother lifted his arm, reaching for his watch.

That grinned faded at the look on John's face.

"What is it?"

"I've got no connection." John sounded startled, almost afraid. Gordon's heart jolted, and he quickly raised his own arm.

John was right. Pressing every combination he could think of, Gordon stared in dismay as his watch did nothing.

"I can't even see the time," he grumbled, staring at the blank screen. Then he shook himself, digging his cell out of his pocket. But the same was true there.

"No signal. No nothing. My phone uses the same chip as the watches: we should be able to get signal anywhere."

He could use either his watch or his cell to talk to John whenever he wanted. In space. But somehow, in this run-down factory who knew where, they were cut off in a way Gordon wasn't used to. Not in this day and age.

A cry of frustration made Gordon jump and he looked away from his cell just in time to see John fling something at the wall. It hit with a small ping. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, Gordon picked up the offending item, crossed the room and pressed John's watch back into his hand.

He didn't need to check to know it wasn't damaged. Brains made them to withstand a lot more than John's throw. It was unnerving seeing John lose control – he remained calm even while talking Scott down from doing something hot-headed and rash. But Gordon understood why. Communications was John's thing – he'd rarely been so cut off.

"It'll be ok-,"

"You want to know where we are?" John's voice sounded hollow as he spoke over Gordon. He backed up until he was leaning against the wall, slipping down it to a seated position, legs bent, wrists dangling over his knees. "Eye of the storm."

"Huh?"

"When technology started moving beyond just cells, precautions were put in place. Everyone was hacking everyone else to see what they were working on. This place, places like this, sprung up with a new kind of shielding. No signals get in or out."

"But Brains-,"

"Doubt he would've thought about it. This stuff is from years ago. Obsolete. The shields have been upgraded – and the watches can get a signal through those. Whoever these guys are, they've kick-started the old shields. No sophistication but can't deny it's effective. While we're in this room, we can't get a signal out."

The two brothers were silent for a moment as the repercussions of what John had just said sunk in. Gordon looked around the room – their prison – with fresh eyes, noting the metal sheets lining the wall. Competition must have been rife if even a storage room was shielded.

"What I don't know is whether it's coincidence," John said. He glanced anxiously at the door as he spoke, lowering his voice. "They didn't search us: didn't take our phones knowing they'd be useless. But these precautions… do they know?"

Gordon understood what he wasn't saying. Was the shielding in place because their captors understood there was more sophisticated technology at play than just a cell phone? He thought back to the fight on the verge.

"No," he said slowly. "They said something about making them rich but nothing else. I'm pretty sure it's just because we're Tracys."

"Great," John said drily.

Gordon grinned. His earlier fear had vanished, and he was already ashamed of how he'd reacted. But even if their kidnappers didn't know about International Rescue, they still had no idea who they were dealing with. If they'd been taken because of the good fortune of having the surname Tracy, then Gordon figured it was time they learnt exactly what that meant.

The next time the door opened, he wouldn't be taken down a second time.

"You know what that means, though?"

John glanced at him. The same fire was burning in his eyes and the look on his face would've made Gordon worried in any other situation. Whatever frustration John had felt about being cut off had passed.

"We get to show them exactly who they're messing with," Gordon continued. John stood up.

"You're right."

"Not something I hear every day."

John's smile was amused and exasperated in equal measure: a look Gordon was more than familiar with. It was that, more than anything else, that convinced him they'd be just fine.

-x-

Something wasn't right.

He didn't know what. They were on vacation, for pete's sake. But Scott had grown up listening to his instincts: ever since John had been born, he'd learnt to listen to what his gut was telling him, a feeling that had only grown stronger since International Rescue and once again living with all four of his brothers.

He checked the rooms – although it was no surprise his brothers hadn't suddenly materialised in them. This was Gordon, after all. He didn't do quiet. Running a hand through his hair, Scott tried to make sense of what he was feeling.

Unable to break routine, even on vacation, he'd been up a little after dawn, going for a run while his brothers slept. It wasn't a surprise the two hadn't returned by the time he was back. John would want to hit the road early – they had plans for the day – but they'd been up for most of the night star-gazing. Chances were they wanted a lie-in.

But it was mid-morning now, and even Virgil was up. There's no way Gordon would still be asleep – he was as much of an early riser as Scott, regardless of how much sleep he'd had. One of them would've checked in, even just to say they hadn't left yet.

Restless, Scott poured himself another coffee, hoping it would calm him. It did nothing. Glancing again at the door, Scott gave in. He was going to talk to Virgil, and hope his brother let him live it down when their brothers waltzed back in, happy, relaxed and gushing about a great night.

Unlike his older brother, Virgil was taking to heart that it was a vacation. Scott found him on the balcony, feet propped up and a book loaded on the data-pad balancing on his lap. Despite everything, Scott smiled. He hadn't seen Virgil with a book for a while – his brother usually had other outlets but Scott had refused to bring the piano with them!

"Hey," he said, slipping out.

"If you're bored: get lost." Virgil didn't even look up. "And don't look at me like that: we all know you're useless at finding things to do that aren't work-related."

Scott gaped at him. He should feel offended, only his brother was right. Not that Scott was going to tell him that. He shook his head, grinning, but perched on the edge of a second seat.

"It's not that." He glanced out over the city, watching the cars rushing by below. Was one of them Gordon and John, even now parking up and heading back to the apartment? Was he just overreacting, not used to not knowing where his brothers were?

"You heard from the others?" He tried to sound casual, but Virgil looked up. There was no point pretending: Virgil could read him too well.

"No." Virgil lowered his legs and turned to face Scott properly. "But John's not going to let Gords do anything rash."

"I just-," Scott trailed off. "Isn't John going to that museum with you later? Figured they'd be back by now." He tried to sound calm, but Virgil's small smile gave away that he saw right through his brother.

Scott wasn't proud of himself. He didn't used to be this paranoid. But years of International Rescue and facing danger on a daily basis had brought his instincts into a state of 'always-on' and he couldn't shake the feeling something was amiss.

"You've tried calling, right?" Virgil said, digging out his cell. They'd all agreed no watches while they were on vacation: this was a time to properly switch off and do things the normal way.

Scott stared at him. Heat rushed up his neck, across his face.

"I-," He'd been so adamant something was wrong that it hadn't even crossed his mind he could just call.

Virgil laughed. "Oh, Scotty," he said, a fond yet exasperated note in his voice. "We said no watches, not no contact."

He pressed a button, quick-dialling John and holding the phone between them. Scott frantically tried to think of an excuse why they'd be calling – neither John nor Gordon would appreciate being checked up on – when a long beeeep indicated John had no signal.

"Huh," Virgil muttered. "Weird."

He pressed another button, this time ringing Gordon.

The same thing happened.

"We can always get signal," Virgil said slowly. "Did John mention anything about this observatory being cut off?"

"No."

John would've told them if there was likely to be communication problems. He would've known. It was his area of expertise; he couldn't help but know even if he didn't mean to look it up.

Scott reached for his watch, vacation rules be damned. But a jolt of alarm shot through him when it failed to connect. Neither brother could be raised on their watches – and that was something that had never happened before.

When Virgil caught Scott's eye, he saw the same concern he'd been feeling reflected there. He nearly kicked himself. This was supposed to be a holiday!

"I'm sure they're fine," Scott said with a false note of cheer in his voice. He didn't want to worry Virgil. "You know what those two are like when they get together: worse than the Terrible Two."

He turned to go in. "I'll talk to Al. If they are up to something, Gordon wouldn't be able to resist telling Alan."

He spoke with a confidence he didn't feel. Something was wrong. He just knew it. But as he headed inside, Virgil scrambled out of his seat and followed him. Scott hated he'd now made Virgil worry when his brother had been so relaxed but Virgil would've figured it out even if Scott hadn't said anything. He'd always been able to read his big brother – too well, sometimes.

Despite it being mid-morning, Alan was still in bed. He hadn't got back to the apartment until the early hours, obviously having found somewhere to go after his expedition. He was an adult, after all, and hadn't had many opportunities of being in the big city without relying on a fake ID. Scott hadn't minded – it had been nice having an evening with just Virgil – but he didn't pander to Alan's hangover as he shoved open the bedroom door.

Alan was awake, but the mussed hair and bleary eyes suggested only just.

"You heard from Gordon?" Scott asked, his tone sharper than intended. Virgil jabbed him with an elbow.

"Good morning to you too," Alan grumbled.

"Sorry, kid," Scott said, his tone softer. "I can't get hold of him – did he tell you anything about their plans?"

"Just some random crap yesterday afternoon. A bunch of numbers and letters, like they were doing a treasure hunt."

"Let me see."

Alan begrudgingly handed over his phone and Scott checked the message. He was right: just a series of letters and numbers.

"It doesn't mean anything to you?"

The two of them had developed all sorts of secret codes growing up, believing it was the only way they'd get things past their big brothers. They were wrong but it had been entertaining watching them try.

"Nope. What's going on?"

Alan reached for his phone, but Scott was already showing it to Virgil, who shook his head, bewildered.

"And you've no idea what this means?"

"I just told you I didn't," Alan grumbled.

"Wait," Virgil said slowly. His hand was on Scott's arm, keeping him still so he could look at the numbers again. But when Scott glanced at him, Virgil was staring out the window.

Scott looked that way. There was nothing to see. Just a normal street: few parked cars, couple of pedestrians hurrying towards the busier roads.

"What?"

"The cars," Virgil said quietly. "Look at the plates."

Scott looked. Then he glanced back at the phone. It was the same pattern. For some reason, Gordon had sent Alan license plates to two vehicles. Scott couldn't think of any good reason.

"You didn't think to mention it?" He didn't mean to snap, but his patience was wearing thin.

"I didn't know what it meant!" Alan protested, instantly indignant.

"You were at a car show! You're a racing driver! And you didn't recognise license plates?"

"Ease up, Scott." Virgil's hand on his arm exerted pressure, diverting his attention and making him take a breath.

"Sorry," he muttered. Alan wouldn't look at him and Scott felt a familiar flash of guilt. But if he'd received a cryptic message from any of his brothers, he'd at least message back to figure out what the heck they were playing at. Then again, Alan had probably still been annoyed Gordon had bailed on the show.

Virgil turned and Scott followed him without realising.

"What're you doing?" he asked as Virgil picked up his data-pad again.

"Seeing if I can pull anything on them?"

Scott didn't ask to know Virgil meant using their more sophisticated technology. He wondered if Brains truly thought through the different uses to the systems he designed. Then realised he knew the answer: their dad wouldn't insist on such security if he didn't know exactly what they were capable of.

"Nothing," Virgil said. "Nothing related to anyone rich and famous and Gordon trying to show off: no notorious crime-lord on NYPD's most wanted list."

Scott wasn't reassured. He took the data-pad out of Virgil's hand and connected it to his watch. So much for taking a break from it all.

"Scott?"

"Brains might have a way of tracing those plates through traffic cams."

It was the sort of thing he'd usually ask John to do. The kind of job his brother would love simply for the reason he shouldn't be doing it. But Scott didn't see that they had a choice right now.

"You don't think-," Virgil trailed off. Scott looked at him, only to find his brother looking at him with uncertainty in his expression. "You don't think something's happened, do you?"

Scott sighed. He hit connect, patching them through to the island.

"Yeah, Virg," he said heavily. "I do."

He only wished he had more of an idea of what that something might be. Somehow, he had to voice his doubts, make his father believe him without evidence (other than the lack of both brothers and signal) and not cause a complete panic at the same time.